Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1)

by B. T. Narro

  Basen realized then that Peter would kill him if given the opportunity. He was at a terrible disadvantage, for he had no intention of hurting Peter in return.

  Luckily there was Sanya, who came from the side, barreling toward Peter. But he lowered his shoulder and returned the force twofold. She let out a sharp inhale as she flew back the way she’d come. Unfazed, Peter sprinted at Basen, picking up speed while Basen held his ground firmly. He deflected Peter’s swing and hopped to the side to avoid his charging shoulder.

  Basen swiped the back of Peter’s leg as he rushed by, but the drunken fool didn’t even seem to feel it, turning and swinging his sword from side to side, desperately trying to get past Basen’s defenses.

  His training came back to mind as he moved to avoid every attack, using his own weapon as a shield. Never had he fought someone this skilled or strong, however, and he couldn’t find an opportunity to counter.

  Sanya came at Peter again, this time from behind. He turned and slashed at her to force her away, then turned his focus back before Basen could respond. Peter grunted as often as he took a breath, sounding like a wild animal.

  Basen finally failed to deflect a blow and took the wooden sword against the meat of his arm. Pain and numbness mixed together, then quickly spread along his muscles.

  Peter, no doubt thinking this was his opportunity, went for a leaping strike down onto Basen’s head. Basen barely managed to get his sword up in time. He drove Peter’s weapon down to the dirt, then swung his back up to strike Peter squarely in the chin.

  The massive man reeled backward and grabbed at his face. As he took his hand away, blood glistened in the moonlight. Sanya jumped on Peter’s back once more, reaching around him to grab his sword with both her hands. But he easily threw her off him, then tried to strike her on the ground. Fortunately, she was quick enough to roll out of the way. Basen was right there to prevent Peter from swinging at her again.

  “God’s mercy, just stop!” Basen yelled.

  Suddenly, Peter screamed and collapsed. He coiled into a ball on the ground as deep cries of agony tore out of his throat. Then Annah appeared. She walked closer until she stood over him, her arm stretched out as her psychic spell continued.

  “Cease your fighting,” she demanded, then let her arm drop. “Or I’ll do it again.”

  Peter rolled onto his back, looking as exhausted as if he’d forgone sleep for a night. But somehow he still gripped his sword.

  “Are you going to go home?” Annah asked, reaching down and prying the weapon out of his hand. “Or would you like to feel that again?”

  His shallow breaths made it difficult for him to speak. “You’re all…traitors to the Academy. We would be better off…without the three of you.”

  Annah came to take the sword from Basen’s hand next. She tossed both of them some distance away. “Go get your weapons and go home,” she told Peter.

  He staggered to his feet, walked over to collect his weapons, and showed a look of utter hatred over his shoulder before he continued onward and disappeared into the night.

  “Annah…” Sanya squinted and elongated her mouth in a pained look. “Thank you. Your help is undeserved.”

  “I was helping Basen, not you.” Annah didn’t wait for a reply but simply turned on her heels and left.

  Sanya gave a long sigh.

  “I assume Annah wasn’t happy with you when she was forced to move?” he asked.

  “Whatever you’re imagining as her reaction, make it last twice as long and add screaming and crying.”

  They walked toward their campus houses. Basen prodded his cheek where he’d been punched and was surprised to find how sore it was.

  “The bastard fights well even while drunk,” he said.

  Sanya took his chin. “Let me see.” She chuckled for some reason. “That’s going to bruise. Add a punch like that one to the eye, and you’ll look like I did after the first day of duels.”

  “God’s mercy, I’m going to get some looks as I walk through the capital tomorrow.”

  “I heard you say ‘bastial hell’ earlier. Now it’s ‘god’s mercy’ again?”

  “I’m trying to do everything I can to blend in more, but it’s hard to keep up. Have you found it easy to give up Tenred sayings?”

  “Yes, after enough practice. Bastial hell, bastial hell, my bastial stars, my bastial stars. Just repeat them enough times.”

  “There’s no point. Everyone already knows me by now, even that warrior who I’d never met.”

  She nodded sadly, then surprised him by linking arms with him. He decided not to mention that she’d gouged him with her nails just a couple hours earlier when he’d offered to walk with her in the same way.

  “But you should stop using those phrases anyway,” she said. “It irks me when I hear about the gods.”

  “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about them.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe they exist?”

  “I wouldn’t say I believe, but it does seem plausible that there is a stronger force than us out there.” Another thought came. “And ‘bastial hell’ isn’t any better—as if there’s some sort of hell made out of bastial energy.”

  She smirked but didn’t speak.

  “What?”

  “Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

  “That’s a hard thing for someone like me to promise.”

  “Then you don’t get to hear.”

  He sighed. “I promise.”

  “Some people think there is an afterlife—a part of our world made of bastial energy where the dead rest close to those they love.”

  “And you agree?”

  “I do.”

  They walked in silence as Basen concentrated on the touch of her hand rather than on the questions running around his mind about this belief of hers. As hard as he tried, there was one question he couldn’t ignore.

  “If this afterlife existed, what would the dead do?”

  “I think they do nothing. Their spirits just fade away over time, ceasing to exist.”

  “That’s a sad thought.”

  “It is, but it also gives more meaning to our life. We need to take advantage of every opportunity we’re given because we only have one life to live.”

  They came to the door of her house. Sanya gazed out from the top of her eyes. If she were anyone else, Basen could be certain he was staring at a woman who wanted to be kissed. But there was no guessing what was going through Sanya’s mind.

  He told her, “I’ve never met anyone who’s changed as much as you.”

  She grinned with half her mouth. “You hated me back then, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. Everyone did!” He chuckled as he remembered something. “We would say that the only difference between you and a rabid dog is—” He stopped himself as he caught her scowling. I went too far.

  “Is…?” she prodded.

  “Is brilliance and beauty,” he lied. “Good night.” He tried to flee to his house, but she grabbed his arm.

  “I’m a different person now. It won’t upset me.”

  “Fine. Fur.”

  She let go of his arm as she blinked in thought. Then a chuckle rumbled out.

  “Annah asked to live with me,” he blurted, knowing he shouldn’t leave without telling Sanya. “I said it’s all right if Terren allows it.”

  “Then you’re braver than I am.” She didn’t seem upset, just worried. “Be careful with her. It won’t take long before you see something sinister behind those blue eyes, like I have. Then, when your suspicions eventually come, you won’t be able to hide them from her.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  After completing endurance day, walking the four miles to Kyrro City was easy. As Basen had expected, the deep bruise of his cheek drew many gazes within the capital. But at least he and his clothes were clean. If he’d come from the workhouse, the gazes would’ve been even more disapproving.

  There was but one castle in Kyrro, as in Tenred, and it was mass
ive enough to be seen from outside the city. As soon as he arrived, he gave his name to the indifferent guards, then was told to wait as one fetched his father.

  When Henry finally appeared, it took a moment for Basen to recognize him. He’d shaved and trimmed his hair, but it was the blue army uniform that made him most unfamiliar. Kyrro’s sigil was sewn into the center: a gold crown lined in silver. Basen saw the same design on his father’s cloak as Henry turned and gestured for him to follow without even a greeting. Basen held back a few choice sarcastic remarks, but he figured at least one would come out soon if his father continued to act as if this were a meeting of business.

  Henry brought him into the heart of the great hall. A wide stairway zigzagged up to all four enormous floors. People bustled up and down, half of them wearing drab robes to mark their role as a castle servant. There was so much height between each floor, giving Basen the thought that there were other sets of stairs or possibly ramps that led to rooms halfway between levels.

  “What happened?” Henry asked, taking Basen’s chin to get a closer look at his dark bruise. The old man’s eyes filled with pride. “You convinced them to let you train as a warrior instead of a mage.”

  “No, I’m going to be a mage for the rest of my life.” It was important to be blunt and direct with his father.

  “Eh, one day you’ll find your way back to sword training. Come with me.” Henry began taking the stairs two at a time. “You’re not going back without a sword.” He shoved a pouch of coins into Basen’s hand. “Buy a training sword and a steel one. You remember how to judge the quality of the sword, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Basen couldn’t hold back his sarcasm any longer. “By the way, Father, I’m doing fine at the Academy. I can see you’re doing well here. Can you believe where we are now after starving in the workhouse just a week ago? I can’t, either. All right, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can go back to arguing about what class I should choose.”

  Henry stopped at the second floor and took Basen’s shoulder. “We both have Alabell Kerr to thank for the opportunity. You’ll see her soon. You should marry her, Basen. She’s rich and beautiful, and she asks about you every time I see her.”

  “You had me convinced at rich,” he quipped. “Where’s the family engagement ring? Oh, yes, it’s with Mother, wherever she is now.”

  Henry just shook his head and returned to his hurried pace, leading Basen up to the third floor. He took one of the many hallways that eventually led to a smaller stairway, this one made of stone instead of sleek wood like the rest of the stairs and many of the walls thus far. Basen wondered why there would be wood at all.

  Tenred’s castle was made entirely of stone because that was the resource the kingdom had in abundance. He began to recall discussions of trades between Tenred and Kyrro, and Kyrro usually wanted stone. Perhaps that explained the lack of it at this castle.

  “I hope you don’t speak to your instructors the same way you speak to me,” Henry asked without asking.

  “Luckily there isn’t a lot of speaking between instructors and students.” So I found another way to ruin my chances at being judged fairly.

  Henry took Basen into a small room where two other men sat wearing uniforms identical to his father’s. “I had to fetch my son,” he told them as an excuse, not bothering to introduce Basen. “Did you each look over the plan?”

  “We did,” one answered with the same hurry as Henry. “And we agree. We can ready the men in an hour.”

  “Can we make it three quarters of an hour?” Henry’s tone was the same as he’d always used in Tenred’s castle, a cross between demanding and requesting. It took until now for Basen to realize his father actually had sounded gentler during their time in the workhouse. “I’ll help you in a moment,” Henry continued. “I need to speak with my son.”

  The other two men collected and stacked the papers spread across the table between them, then hurried out. Henry closed the door after them.

  Basen made himself comfortable in a seat, putting his legs up on the table. “Looks like you’ve earned some respect already.”

  “Only because I have a plan to fix something that others were worried about before I got here.” He sat beside Basen and leaned forward. “Many are concerned that King Kerr is too trusting.”

  “What is there not to trust? The people in Kyrro seem to like him.”

  “He values their favor too much. Keeping power should be just as important to a king as caring for his citizens. But King Kerr takes few measures to protect himself from rebellion. Fortunately, I’ve at least convinced him, through Alabell’s introduction, to hire me to help protect him. He doesn’t want to raise alarm, so we are to be discreet as we investigate.”

  Basen took down his feet from the table to lean forward, admittedly interested. “Investigate what?”

  “Lack of loyalty, money passing between the wrong hands, meetings between powerful families—anything that could lead us to believe a rebellion is coming.”

  “But Kerr is to give the crown to someone else as soon as he chooses the right man. Why would someone want to rebel against a temporary king who’s loved by his citizens?”

  “Because they might use his lack of control as their opportunity to take the crown for themselves. The first men we’re investigating are those who came to Kerr requesting to be considered, later to be denied.”

  “And you are in charge of this?”

  “Yes.”

  “What could you have possibly told the king to convince him to put you in charge?”

  “The truth. My brother was wicked as both a man and a king, but he knew how to maintain power and even deceive his people into believing he had their best interests in mind, which I helped him do until he betrayed us. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m the best at knowing what needs to be done for the King of Kyrro.” Henry stood. “Unfortunately, I have to leave now.”

  Basen jumped up. “Wait, I thought you only helped Tegry with army strategy: positioning, formations, surprise attacks, that sort of thing.”

  “I did that as well. I’ve wanted to tell you of the other stratagems, but I never found the right time.” The hard look in his father’s eyes was gone. “I’m sorry, Basen. I plan to make up for it by helping to protect a good king this time. I don’t imagine any deceit will be necessary.”

  God’s mercy, could Tegry have become so reviled without my father’s help? A realization struck him. My father helped spread false rumors as well. That’s why people in Kyrro believe William and his wife were poisoned when it was an illness. Henry and Tegry took every opportunity to win over the hearts of Tenred’s citizens and army in case there was a war against Kyrro.

  “Can we speak more about this later?” Basen asked.

  “Yes, I’ll visit you as soon as I have time. You can show me around the Academy as well.”

  Basen smiled in surprise. “A true father and son activity. I look forward to it.”

  Henry wrapped him in a hug that was over too briefly. “Alabell will send someone for you as soon as she’s ready to meet. She keeps herself busy, so don’t take more time than she offers. Be courteous.”

  “I always am.”

  “More courteous.”

  He left. Basen sat down again and wondered how necessary it really was for his father to investigate the possibility of a rebellion. From Henry’s haste, it was as if he felt they were already months behind.

  Basen soon found himself dozing. He awoke to someone gently caressing his sore cheek and applying a cool balm with a light touch. He opened his eyes to find Alabell’s lips close enough to kiss with a simple turn of his head.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” She stayed close as she smoothed out the balm, her warm breath against his chin. “I came in while you were asleep and saw your injury. What happened?”

  “Tried to stop a warrior from fighting someone.”

  “Who? I may know him.”

  “Peter. I don’t
know his last name.”

  She frowned. “Yes, I know him, and that doesn’t surprise me. Who was he fighting?”

  “Have you heard of the woman who joined as a first-year warrior?”

  “Sanya Grayhart. I was fortunate enough to meet her soon after you left Worender Training Center.”

  She was there in Oakshen? Alabell touched his chin lightly to turn his face, looking at each side in comparison. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers, his heart fluttering like the wings of a bird about to soar into the sky.

  She leaned back, and the rest of her came into sight. The cut of her blue and silver dress gave a generous tease of her ample breasts. Heat surged through his body. It became a struggle to speak as he wondered whether she’d purposely donned clothing that flattered her curves in anticipation of seeing him. She was even more beautiful than he’d first realized.

  “Thank you,” he finally managed.

  She took her hand off his chin, though her gaze lingered. “Of course.” Then she cleared her throat as she stood upright. “I’m glad you came. Now tell me everything about evaluation week, and I’ll be happy to show you around the castle.”

  Basen gladly took to her side. “By the way, my father and your great-uncle—who would’ve thought the Kerrs and the Hillers would be helping each other.”

  She let out a soft giggle. “Hopefully it’s just the beginning of a long friendship between our families.” He caught the corner of her eye, then drew the rest of her gaze with his smile. She looked down shyly.

  Maybe Sanya was onto something about keeping my mouth shut and speaking more with my eyes.

  Basen began his recount of evaluation week with meeting Nick the first day. Meanwhile, Alabell took him around each floor, showing him the busy kitchen, the enormous laundry room, the spectacular quarters for honored guests, and seemingly everything else there was to see.